The moral paradox
by Myley
Summary: Elijah is a moral man but also a very dangerous predator. To combine both can sometimes be a terrible struggle with himself.


**Hey guys! So I've wanted to try something different here and experience with the fascinating character that is Elijah! Such a complex character I had to write something about him, to try and be a little in his head. I hope I do him justice!  
**

**Let me know what you think of it!**

**The song used for this OS is Astronaut by Amanda Palmer.**

* * *

THE MORAL PARADOX

_**Is it enough to have some love?  
**_

"_I don't believe in love."_

_**Small enough to slip inside a book**_

"_Love is vampire's greatest weakness."_

_**Small enough to cover with your hand  
Because everyone around you wants to look.**_

_**It is enough to have some love?  
Small enough to slip inside the cracks**_

"_Mother didn't make us monsters."_

_**The pieces don't fit together so good  
With all the breaking and all the gluing back **_

"_We did that to ourselves."_

* * *

He hated his life. He hated that he followed a stupid moral code so opposite to the kind of person his nature wanted him to be, only because he did not want to lose himself.

Not completely.

He looked down at the girl's lifeless body, laid at his feet on the concrete floor. Young girl. Innocent girl. Girl who just happened to have been in the wrong place at the wrong moment, to have crossed the path of the wrong person.

The predator, the monster, the abomination.

He had not wanted to kill this girl. He had just needed warm fresh blood. Because it was what his nature craved for; warm fresh blood from innocent, living, persons. He had tried to feed on criminals but the sadistic predator lurking inside of him only lusted after innocence, after a prey. He had tried to ignore and bury the predator, to suffocate him under layers of principles and inspirational speeches.

But who was he kidding? Kol and Niklaus mocked him for being what they called delusional and hypocritical, which he was indeed. He was a hypocrite; always patronizing his two brothers for their evil deeds when he, himself, deep inside, ached for the same kind of mayhem.

And so this girl whom he had exchanged a brief glance with on the sidewalk of a desert street was now dead. Because he had wanted to taste something warmer, something sweeter than the cold blood bags he desperately tried to get himself accustomed to, and had not been able to stop. Because he had not compelled her, and she had cried and called for help when he morphed in front of her.

"_Please," _she had begged, _"please, don't hurt me. I don't want to die."_

She had tried to fight when he tore into her flesh, and for a moment - a moment only - he had felt purely content. Happy even.

Because it was what he was. Tonight, he had yielded to his dark nature and replaced the cold civilized feeding with warm messy quenching. The predator had purred, wishing this moment would last always, that she would not stop screaming and crying, that she would not stop struggling. He was the one in control. He was the lion and she, the lamb.

And it was just perfect this way. For a moment, everything in him had felt perfect and right.

But then the moment was passed. Contentment was gone, and the only actual remainder was the corpse on the floor. For the girl was dead and her screams, so previously welcomed, were now making his heart blaze, as if scorched with fire. He leaned against the wall and looked down at her, feeling tears prickling his eyes. Her blood had ruined his suit and sophisticated appearance. He looked like the sadistic murderer he actually was and kept hidden behind a built-up personality.

_**And i am still not getting what i want**_  
_**I want to touch the back of your right arm**_

A moral man? Who was he kidding?

_**I wish you could remind me who i was**_  
_** Because every day I'm a little further off**_

She probably had parents, siblings, maybe was she a mother herself. Now, she left a heartbroken family behind, only because he, an abomination, had needed to satisfy a selfish motive when he could have used a blood bag for the same technical result.

No, the intolerable truth was that he had inwardly _needed_ to kill. He had wanted to be selfish for once and had consciously lost control, just to feel her sweet life escape her body and dominance ran through his veins like lava down a plain as her tears wet his impeccable collar. Oh, the power! Oh, the pleasure! He who denied himself any.

He did not know which knowledge made him feel worse; if it was the fact that he had taken yet another innocent life or that he had definitely enjoyed doing so.

He was going to be sick. He needed a drink. This was a a wish he could fulfill without hurting anyone but his already much bruised soul.

What morality was he following? Which principles? Where was the morality in what he had done, and done countless of times?

_**And is it getting harder to pretend**_  
_** That life goes on without you in the wake**_  
_** And can you see the means without the end**_  
_** In the random frantic action that we take**_

As he made his way to the Grill for a much required beverage, he wondered what was wrong with him. He was not one to believe in Providence. He supported free will and the idea that anyone could be anybody, as long as their will was strong enough. He knew that humans could be as dark as vampires and absolutely refused to excuse his awful behavior on he being a vampire. Niklaus and Kol could claim whatever they wanted, he would never accredit such irresponsibility. This girl was dead because he had killed her, period. Being a vampire did not account for anything. Who was he to decide what to do with lives?

No one.

He pushed the door of the empty bar and went for one of the stools.

"A double whiskey," he ordered without looking up.

Many a time he had thought of turning his emotions off, only to make this incessant voice stop rambling and overwhelming him with piles of guilt.

The drink slid in his direction. He took it and looked up to meet Matt Donovan's critical glare. On second thought, his suit _was_ covered in blood, and the kid knew about him being a vampire. He gulped his drink down.

"Another one," he ordered again.

The kid raised his eyebrows but said nothing. A minute later, he was served his second drink.

Alcohol helped with the cravings, they said. The cravings! Being a vampire was sponsored by alcoholism! He chuckled. What a stupidity!

After one hour of ordering, gulping and wallowing in self-pity, he was drunker than he had been in a couple of decades! He thought about his family, about the kind of person he used to be before all of this shit happened, about his dreams and hopes, forever crushed to pieces. He thought about his smooth principles and crumpled attitude, and he wished he could die.

Immortality was a bitch. Time had left thousands of his footprints all over the world and zero fulfilling memories in his own mind. He had never truly lived. His life was empty, cursed. Immortality could only offer a half-life, tainted by death and eternal change. He could less and less understand this world he was forced to stay in. The twentieth and twenty-first centuries had left him deeply puzzled. The movement for women's rights, for example, had made no sense to his patriarchal brain. He was from another epoch, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself updated. There were things he would simply never accept.

**_And is it getting easy not to care_**_**?**_  
**_ Despite the many rings around your name_**  
**_ It isn't funny and it isn't fair_**  
**_ You've traveled all this way and it's the same_**

He was an antiquity.

**_But you are, my love, the astronaut_**  
**_ Flying in the face of science_**  
**_I will gladly stay an afterthought_**  
**_ Just bring back some nice reminders_**

If only he could die. But he was stuck here, stuck with a half future disgraced by more cravings, more corpses, more guilt and emptiness.

The gloominess of it all made him gulp his new drink in a bitter swallow.

"Lookey here! If this is not my favorite Original!" a voice on his right chuckled.

He turned his falling face to the owner and was not surprised to discover Damon Salvatore, eying him like a strutting peacock.

Damon pulled back the stool next to him to sit, "That's a situation I'd have never thought I'd see you in someday!" he mocked, full of himself, as always.

Elijah sighed. The younger vampire stank of liquor and his eyes shone strangely. Wonderful! Just what he needed to finish this beautiful day! A wasted Damon in search for an entertainment target!

"I didn't picture you as the drinking type!" Damon continued as he ordered a Bourbon to Matt Donavan who looked ready to go hang himself in the storeroom – the kid was not fond of vampires, he had heard, especially drunk ones.

"Leave me alone, Damon! I am not in the mood!" Elijah warned darkly.

But the young vampire would have none of that apparently, and looked pretty much like he intended to make pestering Elijah Mikaelson his hobby for the night!

"Oh come on! What could have ruffled the perfect feathers of the Almighty Original!" Damon teased as he took a sip of his own drink just to worsen his already intoxicated state.

Elijah looked for Matt to have another drink – if he did not, he would unleash his temper onto the impudent vampire – but the kid was not in sight. Elijah concluded he had probably left to thusly hang himself and flashed Damon one of his darkest glare.

"Damon, if you do not stop talking, I will yank your heart out before you have time to put your glass back on that counter. Do not test me, _I am not in the mood._"

Damon rolled his eyes and put his empty glass back on the counter loudly before raising his hands in surrender, "Fine! I'll leave you alone!" the younger vampire left his stool unsteadily and Elijah could hear him mumble, "Originals! All the same! Psychos!"

Elijah could have easily snapped and put his promise in due practice, but something stopped him from doing so. He was drunk and upset. The girl's voice still made his ears sting and right now, he felt terrible and alone. He could not go pour out his feelings onto Niklaus' shoulder, his brother would not have understood. Kol and Rebekah were also out of the question. In that particular moment, Damon Salvatore – the tortured enamored drunken fool – seemed like the most adequate person with whom to talk.

_**And i would tell them anything to see you split the evening**_  
_** But as you see i do not have an awful lot to tell**_

He called after him, "Do you like it?" he began. Damon turned to him and sent him a confused look. Elijah continued, "Being a vampire, do you like it?"

The young vampire looked completely stunned by his question, "Well..." he stammered, "Yeah... I suppose so. I just... Why?! Don't you?"

Elijah turned his attention back on his empty glass but did not reply. He felt Damon sit back on his stool awkwardly - and almost fell off.

"I mean, I know you're super moral and all but you seem to enjoy it pretty much – especially the whole ripping hearts out bit..."

Elijah chuckled darkly, "Super moral..." Damon looked at him, bemused, "Tonight I killed a girl. She just walked by me and I grabbed her and drained her dry," he turned to face the still very much puzzled male, "So much for moral, eh?!"

Damon gulped.

"You don't feed on people?!"

"I try not to. I'm moral, remember?! Using people as food is not proper!" Elijah mocked himself.

Damon was silent. In spite of his carelessness, he could sense the gravity of a situation when gravity there was.

Elijah continued, "My siblings are heartfully convinced that us being vampires make us superior to others, and allow us to decide of their Fate."

"But you don't," Damon slurred.

"No... I do not believe in my legitimate right to kill and hurt, and yet, this girl is dead. Just like thousands of other boys and girls before her. Just because I..." he chuckled humorlessly, "Just because I was _thirsty_."

Damon looked down for a split second, the conversation probably struck back unwanted memories.

"Niklaus told me you turned your emotions off for a long while. Why?" Elijah asked.

Damon looked in the distance before him, "Because I couldn't stand it," he whispered, "Because being a vampire sucks," he shake his head in drunken irritation.

"Was it better? When it was off?" Elijah inquired.

Damon blinked slowly, "Do you want to turn it off?!"

"I am considering it," the Original admitted softly.

"Why?"

"Because my existence is a constant struggle, Damon. For my siblings, being a vampire is easy! They have forsaken all sense of human fashion, but I haven't. I have stubbornly stuck to my human principles. But there is no place for morality when you keep restraining yourself from being yourself. I have grown tired of forcing myself to do opposite what I wish I did. I want to be free."

_**Everybody's sick for something that they can find fascinating**_  
_** Everyone but you and even you aren't feeling well**_

"But isn't it the burden of all people living on this planet? To combine freedom and duty?! I mean, humans can also be pretty much despicable but most choose not to shoot their neighbor when he pissed them off because it's _not done!_ The only difference with us vampires, is that we do shoot. We don't care. At least, some of us don't."

"I wish I didn't..." Elijah admitted.

"Well, sometimes you don't! I mean all those times I saw you ripping hearts out like it's our National sport, you didn't seem troubled that much," Damon noted thoughtfully.

Elijah glared at him. He would never say he did not enjoy it. He did enjoy it, and this was the core of his problem. He loved being intimidating and feared. A moral paradox, much.

Silence settled for a while. Matt returned and the two vampires hurried to order again. The human boy gulped, uncomfortable being all alone with two drunk deadly creatures, but served them anyway. He left the bottle on the counter.

"You didn't answer my question," Elijah reminded Damon after two rounds of Bourbon, "Was it better off?"

Damon blinked as only drunk people did, "It was easier. But it was no better. It's like living with a permanent fog in front of your eyes. The emptiness is still here, only you can't really feel it," he locked eyes with Elijah, "It's not really a solution. It doesn't change what we are, only makes it less... intolerable. You still kill and when the switch stops working, all the awareness of what you've done suffocates you six feet under." Damon grew silent for a while, "There is no freedom for people like us. We all use different methods to cope – Stephan has gone schizophrenic, I live off Bourbon to muffle their screams, your brother's focused on dominating the world – but in the end, it's bullshit," he turned to Elijah, "I thought being an Original you had accepted the rules?!"

"That's my problem! I keep telling myself I'm better than this! That my claim to nobility is my salvation, but my hands are drenched in blood. And it will never stop. No matter how hard I try to foolishly follow a line of strict moral codes, I stick to it only half of the time. I am no longer that righteous noble man from the tenth century. I have no idea of who I am now, but this man is dead."

"You're ain't this bad of a person. I mean, Rose did call you the Original Easter bunny!"

Elijah chuckled and spilled a bit of his drink on his hand, "Did she?!"

"Yeah... Maybe I shouldn't have said that... Anyway... Sure you kill, sure you're creepy as fuck but... You're aware of it! And that's what differentiate you from the rest of your family. You killed this girl and now look at you, you're a mess! I've seen Rebekah kill some girls in school, she doesn't give a damn..."

Elijah raised his eyebrows in desperation. He looked up, Matt - who had heard that one bit - was trying to rinse a glass without breaking it. Poor boy!

Silence settled for a little while.

"If you could prevent your mother from casting that spell, would you do it?!" Damon genuinely asked.

Elijah looked at him. Would he do it? It would mean their lives would be over by now, but maybe they would have had plentiful, happy lives instead? He would never know. The only certainty he had was that thousands of persons would not have died by his and his siblings hands. His skin would not be marked by the blood of innocents and he would not feel inner burning shame whenever he refereed to himself as a "moral man."

"Yes," he answered, "I think I would."

Damon did not answer. He put his empty glass back on the counter to refill as well as Elijah's.

_**And you may be acquainted with the night  
But I have seen the darkness in the day  
And you must know it is a terrifying sight  
Because you and i are living the same way.  
**_


End file.
